One Way Only . . .

Going back to work after over three weeks away is sort of like heading into the deepest depths of Death Valley in August, where these photos were taken; a bone dry labyrinth where slow death by dehydration leading to disorientation and delusional dawdling in a morass of mirages is a distinct possibility. (Just kidding !) And speaking of rambling around in the desert, there is one person I know of who enjoys such activity immensely, and also not too far back posted about Death Valley. If you have a minute drop by and say "Hi" to Amy at Of Heliotropes and Silver Strings . . .
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In some odd places there are still traces of mines . . . I'd love to go crawl around in some of those holes . . . is that a Freudian thing ??? Trying to get back into the belly of Mother Earth ?
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And as with many things in life, there is only one way to proceed . . . which is forward. Going back is rarely and option, if not impossible. Only one way across this desolate moonscape . . . If my memory serves me well this was not far from an area in Death Valley called Zabriski Point, which if you recall is also the title of a film for which some of the music was done by none other than . . . you guessed it, The Grateful Dead.
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This Bird Has Flown . . .

Lest anyone think from the previous post that the author of this humble little blog might be succumbing to a bout of end of Summer nostalgically induced melancholic whimpering . . . please banish the thought, all is well, this bird has busted out of the coma-cage, and flown off into the wild blue yonder of freedom to create and mingle and sing and whistle . . . see you there, ok ?
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Au cas où quelqu'un aurait pu penser après le post d'hier que l'auteur de ce petit blog bien humble serait en train de sombrer au plus profond de la melancolie produit par les gemissements de fin d'été, s'il te plaît cette pensée est à proscrire, loin de là, tout va bien cet oiseau a cassé la porte de son prison-coma-déprime, pour s'envoler loin dans les cieux vers la liberté de la création, les rencontres, en chantant, en sifflotant, alors, on se donne rendez-vous là-haut ou là-bas ou n'importe où, ok ?
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This grainy black and white video of the Grateful Dead back in 1978 is full of raucous energy, note how Jerry is jumping around on stage, and even Bill who got pretty stoic in later years is whaling away at those drums for all he's worth ! And of course, the line in this song I had in mind is to the effect of "Summertime, done come and gone, my oh my !" . . . Turn it up and rock ! Should be no danger of becoming comatose with this one . . . ;-D
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PS . In fact, I'm not even sure that this photo depicts a bird cage, I'm wondering if it might have been a rabbit hutch or some such ? ? ? (I didn't check to see what the droppings in it might reveal)

Summer's Almost Gone . . .

What is it about vacation winding down and work looming on the very near horizon, like tomorrow, that creates such a sense of wistful longing for a Summer that could continue forever, those long days on the water, ending up perhaps spread on a beach cloth for a late afternoon read in a good book while glancing around at other beach life ? Such is life, all things must come to pass. This colorful cloth with no one on it summed it up for me . . .
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And for some reason this piano instrumental piece from George Winston seemed to convey the mood I'm in this evening even better than the Door's original recording . . .
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